Musical Promenade
by Shahrezad1
Summary: A collection of 'Alternate Universe' and 'Current Universe' drabbles, and one-shots, featuring the Wildcat crew.
1. Chapter 1

Musical Promenade

By Shahrezad1

Summary: _A collection of 'Alternate Universe' and 'Current Universe' drabbles, and one-shots, featuring the Wildcat crew._

Disclaimer: I own nothing. You can prove nothing. When all else fails, deny, deny, deny. These are all a product of a fertile imagination.

Chapter 1: Theater

_Circa 1920's_

His father had warned him about the theater people. They were a rough lot, and lived a life neither he nor his family could ever understand, from their bakery across the street. Most were drunk and disorderly, and the few females he'd seen within the general vicinity wore clothing that made him blush, and false expressions of glee to mask the pain they really felt.

But that was all until he met her. Now he didn't know what to think, to be truthful.

He had just been making a delivery, long length of French bread hot within its packaging, when something had called him to the dancing hall's door. It hadn't been a sound, so much as a feeling. Like life was waiting with hushed breath for him to follow, and he didn't know whether to give into fate, or to continue on the with dreary extent of his current existence. But in that moment he felt like he was at a crossroads, and if he didn't make a choice, he would never get a chance to do so again.

And so it was with one foot in the doorway that he was caught by the sight before, and eternally enchanted.

Her hair had been cut into a stylish bob that just brushed the length of her jaw, and was intended to soften her features while failing to do so. What it did instead was emphasize the flash of brown eyes, while framing a stubbornly strong jaw currently masked with a beautiful smile. And the clothing she wore couldn't help but halt any process of thought, the flapper dress form-fitting while short enough to emphasize the length of her legs without any major scandal.

All together, he couldn't move or think, hands still buried in steaming hot bread meant for the next establishment over.

But he didn't care.

And then she opened her mouth and sang, clear notes filling the hall until the rafters shook.

_So this is what love at first sight looks like_, was the perpetual thought that ran through his mind for the rest of the day. All as he slowly found himself being introduced to the 'gang' of performers that hopped from speakeasy to speakeasy, before returning home merely to pack up his meager belongs and leave a note of explanation, then running off to become a replacement driver for the gang. But still part of him, the part that had discarded a future of inheriting his father's business and a life of security, could tell that it was worth it. Because at the end of each day, he knew that he would be at her side.

Even if it took years of hardship and lengthy trials for her to notice him, a lowly son of a baker.


	2. Chapter 2

Musical Promenade

By Shahrezad1

Summary: _A collection of 'Alternate Universe' and 'Current Universe' drabbles, and one-shots, featuring the Wildcat crew._

Disclaimer: I own nothing. You can prove nothing. When all else fails, deny, deny, deny. These are all a product of a fertile imagination.

Chapter 2: Life

_Circa early 1800's, New York._

Kelsi Nielsen was at the end of her tether. In fact, relying upon the vocabulary her deceased mother had bestowed upon her, a former governess, you could say that she was reaching the end of all worldly need in her desire for musical transcendence. (Whatever that meant. Still, it sounded lyrical, so the tiny brunette went with it.)

For it was because of her mother that she was here, spending the last of her rag money for paper. Any kind of paper, really. It seemed like the only hope she had at this point. And if she was going to die, she'd rather do so as a starving artist rather than a penniless flower seller. She may end up in an unmarked grave, like her mother and father before her, he having perished in an accident at the factory he'd worked at, but at least she would go out with a bang.

Or maybe just a whimper. But it was better than disappearing without a sound.

Fingerless gloves couldn't mask the shiver in her hands as a rough piece of coal scratched out notes upon the page, before moving on to staccatos and instrumental flourishes. There it all was on a single piece of paper, front and back, her life's work. And, suddenly drained and terribly exhausted, she felt extreme satisfaction that at least in this one thing she'd done everything right. Even if the price was starving to death.

~/~/~

Ryan Evans was tired of life. Not in the _'I will go out heroically like Byron, or perhaps will take my life,'_ romantic way of so many gothic poets, but rather…he was tired of it all. The routine, the hum drumness that surrounded him. After all, there wasn't much one could do when one was about to inherit their father's calling as Lawyer for _Evans, Evans, and Danforth_. Especially when the one being sent to law school had been more apt toward performing.

But as he well knew, the theater wasn't a respectable position for someone of his status.

The blonde man sighed into the light mustache above his lip, twitching his top hat until it was in a comfortable position upon his head. _How he hated the status quo._

At least his father had allowed both him and his sister, the scheming socialite that she was, to go to theatrical performances, even if they couldn't perform in any of them. It was a small consolation for all the pain and regret that seemed to follow in his wake as he walked through life in a daze, wishing against hope that some sign or opportunity would occur, leading him into another life.

Any sign, really, would be wonderful.

Continuing on his way to the opera house from where his carriage had dropped him off, Evans Jr. couldn't help but duck his head against the ferocity of the wind. Until something became plastered to his side. Rather, a piece of paper.

Curiosity got the better of the young gentleman, and carefully making sure the wind wouldn't tear it from his hands, he found his blue eyes perusing what could only be a musical score. About love beyond death, of all things, and the desire for life to continue on past the physical state of this world.

Staring at the composition with eyes beginning to blur, the sound in his ears deafened as his heart began to pound. For this was _it_. This was what he had been waiting for. This was his _sign_; what had been calling to him all his life.

Joyous eyes lifted from the page in search of the direction they had come from; the source of the beauty before him. What he found instead shocked him to the bone.

A form lay crumpled in the snow, in an alley beside the opera house. Surrounded by crushed flowers and serene in the darkness of upcoming death, brown curls tangled and scattered like a halo around her head.

Without thinking, the youth rushed to her side, ignoring the filthy state of her skin and the raggedness of her clothing. For this, this was his salvation. And he wasn't going to allow it to get away from him.

Checking for a heartbeat, he found the lightest of pulses. And while she was starting to become paler and paler with the cold and malnutrition, she was still breathing. Thank the heavens for that!

Gathering her up into his arms, after having hastily stuffed the manuscript into his overcoat pocket, he was up and calling a hansom before thought had even entered his mind to wonder why. And as he raced homeward, a tumult of thoughts entering his mind on the care of the woman shivering in his lap, he couldn't help the spearhead of joy that pierced his heart.

The opera, and his sister, would have to wait for another day. He had more important things to take care of. Including both his future, and hers.

~/~/~

AN: I loved writing this one, truly. And I honestly know too much about the 1800's. It's sad, really. -shakes head and sighs-


	3. Chapter 3

Musical Promenade

By Shahrezad1

Summary: _A collection of 'Alternate Universe' and 'Current Universe' drabbles, and one-shots, featuring the Wildcat crew._

Disclaimer: I own nothing. You can prove nothing. When all else fails, deny, deny, deny. These are all a product of a fertile imagination.

Chapter 3: Wings

Gabriella Montes twitched at the appendages upon her back with slight curiosity. They were merely a part of her uniform, in regards to her calling, but somehow she couldn't stifle her fascination with them. Especially with she being one of the few to receive them mere days after her 'passing over.'

_Why?_

Why out of everyone had she been chosen to become a guardian angel? And so quickly after her death, as well? Why the secrecy, why the strange looks? Why had great men like Michael and Elijah, whom her mother now worked under in the genealogy and family history department, been so tentative in regards to explaining her task? It had been quite a while since they had broached her with her assignment, yet still they weren't very forthcoming with the information she would be requiring.

The name of the person she would be watching over, for example, would be helpful. And perhaps the location they existed in. Maybe even a summarization of his or her habits and faults, so that she could help him or her get over them. Anything was better than this dreadful silence, in which

The crash had occurred as she and her mother had been on their way to their new 'home' in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Her mother had been tired, and the driver of the opposite minivan had been tired, and there really had been nothing that could have been done to save them. (The other driver, a single father of three, had survived, for which she was thankful. She could have never forgiven herself if because of them children were orphaned. It was bad enough being the daughter of divorced parents.)

It would have been their fifth move in as many years, to be truthful. So while a part of her should be distressed at her abrupt demise, the pragmatic side of her couldn't help but see the situation as merely another location they'd been moved to, with a different set of expectations.

It was fairly peaceful, true enough, but there was a lot more to be done in the afterlife than she had thought there would be. Everyone had a task, and everyone had a responsibility. Whether it revolved around making sure that the plants upon the Earth produced oxygen and fought carbon dioxide, or even inspiring politicians to be less corrupt and citizens to be more charitable, each person was sure to have something to do in order to make the world a better place. And especially to inspire the occupants therein to look heavenward.

Her task, it seemed, was to guard a life. But why, she didn't know.

After what seemed like forever, she was motioned forward by a passing angel, until she came face to face with one of the most serene beings she could have ever met. Dressed in glowing white, the crinkled face beaming up at her could only be the grandmother she'd lost when she was three. A woman whose memory was lined with fantastical stories and chocolate kisses pressed into tiny hands.

Without thought, Gabriella wrapped the miniscule woman in an enveloping hug. To which the elderly woman could only chuckle.

"Nana Guadalupe! What are you doing here?"

The aged angel, now free of pain in her serenity, merely laughed and patted her granddaughter on the shoulder, "I'm here for you! What did you think I was here for--some good-looking guard to sweep me off my feet?"

A few feet away a stately, grey-haired sentry smiled slightly before continuing his duty.

"Well, that makes sense, but…"

"I'm here to explain your charge."

"Explain my charge?" the smile on the young seraph's face was dimmed slightly in confusion, "what do you mean?"

The joy in her grandmother's face faded as well, as she shook her head in rueful sorrow, "you weren't supposed to go. It wasn't your time yet."

"What?" shock bleached her features of any expression at all, and stepping back she couldn't help but feel as though the (proverbial) ground beneath her feet was suddenly disappearing.

"You've been given a second chance. But in order to be worthy of it, you have to watch over the one you were meant for, until everything is ready for your return," a helpless shrug lifted shoulders aged beyond their years, even if pain was no longer a factor, "your actions are crucial for the wellbeing of this youth. And if you don't succeed…" she shook her head sorrowfully, "many lives will be changed for the worse. Choices will be made that will only bring sorrow. Antipathy will occur where love should be, and many will remain in the same confines they've been in all their lives. A change must occur. You were to be the catalyst, but because of circumstance that chance was taken away."

"And only _you_ can fix it, Gabriella."

~/~/~

AN: This one was inspired by cheesy movie watching, and the TV show _'Touched by and Angel.'_ As well as the wondering thought of, "What if Gabriella _hadn't _shown up at East High? Would following the 'status quo' still be the norm? What about Troy Bolton? Would he have ever tried out for the musical, or even theater, period?"


End file.
